Paradise Lost
by cuthalion
Summary: This is my salute to James Cameron's amazing movie "Avatar" - a collection of drabbles, following Jake Sully's metamorphosis from a disillusioned marine to the hero of a whole world... and to his own salvation. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Grace

**Paradise Lost**  
by _Cúthalion_

**Grace**

Each time those chocolate brown eyes look at me, I can see her disappointment. She was waiting for the well-trained scientist, the man whom it took three years to speak the language of those giant blue natives fluently, who could've written novels about the plants and beasts of this strange place.

She was waiting for my brother.

But Tommy was killed, and instead of him she got me.

She thinks I'm an idiot, a brainless tool, nothing more but a useless substitute. I never even trained in that weird machine. No wonder she's furious.

Still, Tommy's dead. _And I'm alive._


	2. Walk

**Walk**

Jesus, I haven't been that clumsy since I tumbled down the stairs in my parents' house at the age of three. I broke my ankle, and since then my father always joked:_ "Use your brain for thinking, not your legs."_

The erratic movements of this body I'm not used to, the thrashing of those long, powerful arms make the scientists dart away in all directions. I've seen in the tank that my avatar has a tail, but feeling it _move _now as a whippy extension of my spine makes me stumble and laugh at the sheer impossibility of it all.


	3. Enemy

**Enemy**

I know that icy feeling between my shoulder blades, an unmistakable sign of lethal danger.

She's unsure yet if I shouldn't better be her next target. She has killed to save me, but if I make a wrong move, she'll use that bow she's carrying and shoot me in a split second. Woman or not, I'd recognize a warrior anywhere.

"_You should not be here."_

She's got a rich, low voice, her guttural accent as strange to my ears as her sight is to my eyes.

"_Go back."_

The spot where her blow hit my bare chest is still tingling.


	4. Wonder

**Wonder**

I can barely believe that this world is _real._

The forest is tinted in surreal shades of blue and green, luminescent like the waters of an endless ocean when the night has come. I am no scientist like my brother was, but now I find myself falling for this world, for its luscious beauty and for the people who've experienced nothing than contempt and hate from my race – and have still decided to teach me their ways and their wisdom.

And for Neytiri…her deep, golden eyes, her generous soul. My tutor. My companion.

She's the greatest miracle of all.


	5. Doubt

**Doubt**

Who am I?

Am I just the helpless cripple, steering each action of the proud body I've been given? And for what purpose? To spy for Quaritch and his sinister plans? To betray the Omaticaya and watch them die if they don't agree to abandon their home? And they won't. I know it.

I'm desperately tired, too tired to think. But I must. I have to choose what side I'll be fighting for.

Shit. Stop fooling yourself, man.

You know _exactly_ who you are and where you belong.

Your choice was made the moment you took Neytiri in your arms.


	6. Guilt

**Guilt**

I thought I was at the end of my rope when the doctors told me I'd never walk again, eight years ago. But the despair I felt then was _nothing_ against what I'm feeling now.

She's cast me out of her heart and out of the tribe. She thinks I'm a traitor of her people, and I know she's right.

I hear the scream of my _ikran,_ and as it comes down between the smoking trees, an image flashes in front of my inner eye: another flying beast, with wings of gold and fire that span the sky.

_God… _

_ …**YES!**_


	7. Loss

**Loss**

I saw her eyes widen in sheer wonder when she understood where she was; she'd reached the place of her dreams at last, the Tree of Souls, and her scientist's heart rejoiced within her exhausted body.

But she wasn't strong enough to survive.

My own body is tense in denial; my fingers dig into her cooling flesh; the silence around me is deafening.

Mo'at looks at me with eyes full of compassion, and her daughter takes my hand as I rise and turn away from my fallen friend.

Grace's death is a lost battle.

But I must win the war.


	8. Rescue

**Author's Note:**_ This is the first and only drabble from **Neytiri**'s POV._

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**Rescue**

My enemy is dead, finally felled by my father's bow.

But all I can think of is _he_, lying slack and silent on the damp ground. _A Dreamwalker's empty shell._

I run towards the Skypeople's tube, climb inside over hard edges and debris, shivering with panic, searching.

Another body, devoid of breath, eyes wide and empty. Without thinking, I thrust the mask over his face and see him gasp for air.

It _is_ he. _Toruk Makto_, savior of my people. _Jakesully._ I see it in his gaze, feel it when his hand comes up to touch my face.

_My Jake. _


	9. Resurrection

_This is the last drabble of the "Paradise Lost"-series, this time from the POV of Norm Spellman. Thank you all for your reviews during the last few days, and thank you to James Cameron for creating a world that is fascinating and beautiful enough_ _to make us all want to play with it... at least a bit. _  
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**Resurrection**

I'm not allowed to approach their Holy Tree, so thank God for binoculars. The crowd sways like seaweed in the depths of an ocean.

I look at Jake, and again I marvel at his metamorphosis. The rise of _homo sapiens_ to erect walk was no more astounding than his development – even if the Na'vi avatar was only borrowed.

But now they're fixing that flaw. Neytiri leans over Jake's human form, kissing his lids with indefinite tenderness.

And then _Jakesully_ opens golden eyes to the world he has chosen, and my jubilation is as great as that of the Omaticaya.

**FINIS**


End file.
